


dazed bees to honey

by eggtoasties



Category: Naruto
Genre: ANBU Uchiha Shisui, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anbu Shiranui Genma, BAMF Haruno Sakura, F/M, Fluff, Genma and Mikoto are Big Proponents of SPF, No Uchiha Massacre, Protective Uchiha Sasuke, Sakura and Sasuke are Bros, Sasuke is a mommas boy, Sasuke the bookmaker, Shikasaku if you squint, Shisui is a Dork, Shisui isn't as good at flirting as he thinks he is, So is Itachi, nejisaku if u squint
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:08:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29744067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggtoasties/pseuds/eggtoasties
Summary: He saw her throw a man into a table and now he's entranced.
Relationships: Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Shisui
Comments: 41
Kudos: 294





	1. Chapter 1

He’s off the mission roster for two weeks. 

Tsunade said, “Consider it a vacation, Uchiha,” while massaging her nose bridge. 

Apparently, one person shouldn’t voluntarily accept three back to back solo missions running from Earth, Lightning, then back to Earth country. She had mumbled something about “disrespect for authority,” “emotional constipation,” and “generations of inbreeding,” along with other things he couldn’t quite catch when he came back with his chakra dangerously low and slightly feverish. He ignored her death glares while she filled out his medical leave forms and flicked through his mission reports.

Despite what Tsunade thought about his work-life balance _he_ saw it as a healthy exercise in assessing one’s physical and mental limitations…for science.

He shifted his weight side to side and assessed her. Her trademark pigtails draped over her shoulders and her green haori was draped on the back of her heavy office chair. She had one hand braced under her chin while she diligently signed documents and hummed at his mission details. He stared at a chip in the wooden floorboards beneath his feet and scrunched his nose at the state of his sandals. 

“Y’know, Tsunade-sama, as the most prolific, intelligent, and innovative medical ninja in all the great nations,” he began, ignoring the way her pen cracked in her grip, “Shouldn’t you have a professional stake in knowing just how _much_ one of your elite shinobi can handle?” He flashed her a crooked grin as her brow twitched.

Tsunade placed her pen down and sat back heavily into her chair, steepling her fingers to her forehead then looking into the rafters of her office. Undeterred, he continued.

“Surely as the Hokage—as _my_ Hokage—as my _favorite_ Hokage,” he blubbered on, gesturing with his hands, “Shouldn’t you be proud and relieved that I learned that one can actually survive on Lightning country’s bitter reed roots for like, a week straight?”

Barring of course, the violent color it turned his urine, the incredibly vivid dreams he had after about 3 days, and the subtle auditory hallucinations after 5 days, which he coincidentally forgot to tell his prolific, intelligent, and most _favorite_ Hokage.

He dodged a paper weight that ripped him from his musings on the potential recreational uses of said plant root as she barked at him to go to the hospital. 

The last place he wanted to go was the hospital. 

He smiled at her, all dimples and pretty straight teeth. “Tsunade-sama, did I mention your beauty and graciousness?” putting heavy emphasis on ‘beauty.’ “I must’ve because a little birdie at the gates told me about a B ranked escort mission deep into Wind country next week that I would just love to—” he dodged a stapler aimed for his face. 

“Get out of my office.”

“Hokage-sama—”

“Your _initial_ priority was your mission in Earth,” she looked at him pointedly. “I gave the second one in Lightning because I figured that would give you enough time to soul search or find the missing braincells your ancestors must have scattered across the elemental Nations throughout the decades,” she waved her hands absentmindedly. “But I guess no luck there since you conned a chunin squad out of their reconnaissance mission in Earth.” He internally winced at the sharp tone of her voice. 

He had happened to run across a very _green_ looking chunin squad at the border of Fire country and told them that he was headed that way anyways and that they should head back to Konoha and request a more exciting mission. It didn’t take much persuading once they realized they were talking to _shunshin no Shisui_ , and what idiots would openly defy a legendary shinobi? 

“Shisui!” Tsunade hissed, “Are you even listening to me? Since you seemed so eager to take missions well beneath your skill level, I can arrange it so you’re on D levels for the next month—don’t give me that look, we’re in peace time—if I actually needed you, I would’ve sent you a summons but being your _gracious_ Hokage,” she rolled her eyes, “I let you play precocious genin.” The contempt was dripping from her voice while he stared into her Byakugou seal.

“Listen,” she sighed, resting her arms on her desk, “Rest and don’t go overboard on training. I’d force you to stay overnight at the hospital just so you wouldn’t even think about expending chakra, but Sakura’s out on a mission,” _that_ tidbit made his ears perk. “And I don’t get paid enough to drop kick you back into a hospital bed when you eventually sneak out—”

“—well then, I’ll get going, thank you Hokage-sama,” he said with a bow, shunshining away from her death glare. 

Tsunade sighed, hands twitching to reach for one of the ceramic bottles hidden away in a drawer. Instead, she braced her hands on her desk and pushed, swiveling herself towards the large office windows. Staring at the Hokage monument, she allowed herself a wistful smile, remembering the warmth of young love in the pale sky and emerald trees. 

.

Shisui stared at his ceiling after his check up at the hospital and flirting his way out of staying overnight on the account of his abs being very much intact despite poor nutrition—“Yes, could you please check them?” He grins at the memory of the flustered nurse, fondly thinking of the verbal lashing he’d get from Sakura if she caught wind.

She’d tell him that he needs to stop terrorizing the nurses so he could _heal_ and he’d tell her he’d stay overnight _only_ if she’d be his personal medic. Or, you know, he’d offer with a sly grin, she could play live in nurse. _Shisui_ , she’d say exasperatedly. He could imagine the way she’d pinch her nose bridge and run a hand through her pretty hair. He’d throw his hands up in concession after she sized him up wondering if she should beat him into submission with her tiny fists.

He’d tell her to lower her weapons of mass destruction and take her small hands in his larger ones, thumb tracing over her worn knuckles. 

Sighing and ignoring the ache in his chest, Shisui grabbed one of the many magazines scattered on his coffee table and mindlessly flipped through it. His feet tapped out an irregular rhythm while he glossed over the words on the page, thinking of the past year.

.

He and Genma had just returned from a grueling undercover mission on the border of Grass and Waterfall. The duo ambled into the bar, bones weary, and aching for a drink. They eased themselves at the bar front, sipping on drinks that bit at the back of the throat.

Appreciatively inhaling the spicy sweet aroma, he finally made eye contact with Sasuke, who was strangely handling a large stack of ryo in one hand and a notebook in the other.

Towards the back of the room, a small crowd of jounin and ANBU regulars were circled around a single table. Sasuke’s pink-haired teammate sat at one end and gestured at the empty seat across from her. Behind Sakura, other members of her graduating class were clapping Sakura’s shoulders and laughing amongst themselves. Sakura said something teasing—Shisui could tell by the way her eyebrow gracefully sloped up and the impish smile that graced her face. Sasuke apparently backed her up, haughtily puffing his chest out and crossing his shoulders, slanting his chin at the empty seat across from his teammate. 

Clearly goading the group of older shinobi, a veteran, Shisui remembered as being exceptionally fond of decapitating his enemies by hand, swiveled the empty chair backwards and sat heavily, elbow anchored at the table, formally accepting Sakura’s challenge. The shinobi tauntingly fluttered his fingers and subtly flexed his arm, causing his ANBU tattoo to ripple. 

To Shisui’s surprise, Sasuke smiled. With teeth. Shisui, who had a lifetime’s experience decoding stoic Uchiha mannerisms—and _especially_ Itachi and Sasuke’s micro-expressions, read Sasuke’s smile as a feral, shit eating grin. Sasuke spread his arms wide, like a ring master at his very own circus, and smirked as the older group whispered amongst themselves. Shisui watched as Sasuke meticulously took notes in his notebook and collected ryo from the shinobi. 

The members of his graduating class positively leered at the older group, their eyes blood thirsty. 

“Hideki probably shouldn’t have been promoted to ANBU captain if he’s stupid enough to think he’ll win against Sakura-chan,” Genma murmured around his senbon.

“Hideki’s arm is the size of both our heads combined—and your head’s fucking massive,” Shisui snickered. “I know Sakura-san’s the Godaime’s apprentice but I thought the Godaime’s strength was hereditary?”

Genma turned his head from side to side, sighing at the way his vertebrae cracked, “Nah, you’re not in the village long enough to know anything anymore. But Sakura-chan’s basically a mini Tsunade, but just a little more evil.”

Shisui started at that, trying to recall what he knew about Sakura.

Pink. Massive crush on Sasuke that apparently dissipated if the way Sasuke always had giant bruises, angrily grumbling Sakura’s name, was anything to go by. One of the head medics at a ridiculously young age. He knew she was strong. Little Sasuke’s indignation at his “weak” teammate gradually turned to respect and trust throughout the years and Shisui knew that the Godaime wouldn’t take just anyone as her apprentice. But _Tsunade-sama_ strong? 

“I thought she was a medic.”

Genma snorted. 

Shisui lazily leaned back against the bar. His eyes traced over Sakura’s arms—corded with muscle, but nowhere near her opponent’s. Her hand was consumed by Hideki’s, her visible four fingers hardly taking up half of his hand. 

Channeling chakra to their ears so they could catch any exchanges, Genma and Shisui listened to Hideki coo at Sakura.

“Try not to cry when you lose, petal, I’d hate to see you upset.”

Sakura smiled, and loosened her shoulders. 

As Sasuke finished writing his notes and collecting his ryo, he counted down from three with a gleam in his eye that made Shisui shift uncomfortably. At Sasuke’s “Go,” nothing happened. Hideki’s friends stared at his clasped hand in confusion which quickly changed to incredulousness. 

Sakura’s grin, stretched impossibly wider as she tipped her head back and licked her lips. 

“Don’t hold back your tears, _petal_ , I love seeing grown men cry.” 

Her hand slammed forward and through the table, flinging Hideki off his chair into the debris and woodchips. He laid sprawled across the floor, looking up at Sakura dazedly. Sakura responded by resting her cheek against a fist and pouting.

“And here I thought you’d be a little more of a challenge. Sad” 

With one half of the crowd cheering and whooping and the other half looking part disbelieving and part terrified, Sasuke promptly handed Sakura a chunk of her winnings and flung an arm across her shoulders for post-win gloating. 

Shisui tried not to let the surprise show on his face but apparently failed to do so as Genma snorted, “Told you so.” Not only was he surprised at what must have been a fraction of her strength, but Shisui’s mind was reeling at Sasuke’s outward fondness for someone other than his mother and apparent talent as a fucking bookmaker. 

As the commotion died down, the crowd parted as Sakura made her way towards the bar. 

“Hope you didn’t wound his pride too much Sakura-chan, a little unbecoming for grown men to cry at a bar, no?” Genma said, while handing her a drink. 

“It’s been a busy week for me, I had to fulfill my monthly ‘make men cry’ quota somehow, right?” Sakura responded, taking a greedy sip. 

Genma moved his senbon from one side to the other. “Are Hatake’s tears not enough? Heard you actually get him to go to post-mission health checks on the regular now.”

She rolled her eyes and abandoned her straw to take a deep swig of her drink. As if realizing Shisui’s presence for the first time she jerked her head towards him.

“Oh hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you Shisui-san, I’ve heard so much about you—I’m guessing your guys’ mission went okay?” she asked while looking at them up and down, assessing both their physical states. 

“Sakura-san,” Shisui clucked, “Are you checking us out? I’ll have you know that Genma is _much_ older than you think.” He ignored Genma’s side glare in favor of catching Sakura’s amused snort. “And I didn’t realize Sasu-chan talked about me, that is _so_ adorable, I hope it was all good things? Shisui flirted. 

Surprising Shisui, Sakura rolled her eyes good naturedly. 

“Fuck you man, you wish you’d look half as good as me in a few years, just because you think you’re above daily SPF doesn’t mean your skin’s _not_ going to age like a leather glove. You don’t hide under your ANBU mask—” Shisui glared harshly and elbowed Genma in the stomach, “—enough for the sun to _not_ be damaging, Uchiha genes be damned.” Genma managed to wheeze out. 

“Relax Shisui-san,” Sakura said placatingly, “Your ANBU status is unclassified information for me. Also,” she leaned in towards him, “It’s not as if the whole village doesn’t know, she dropped to a theatrical whisper, “That Uchiha _Shisui is ANBU._ ”

Blinking at her, but conceding to her logic, Shisui apologetically patted his partner’s shoulder. 

“Also,” Sakura quipped, “I was the one who specifically chose you two as duo to infiltrate and wrote the tactical plan in your mission scroll.”

Shisui’s eyebrows shot up.

“Oh please, don’t act like you’re above Sakura-chan’s tactical planning,” Genma said. “She totally predicted that the target’s estranged stepson was going to come out of the woodworks in some shady way,” Sakura visibly brightened, “Thanks for including that theory in Addendum C, Sakura-chan—and like, isn’t her handwriting _so_ much better than half the Nara’s in tactics?” Genma babbled animatedly. 

Shaking his head in disbelief, Shisui said, “So you’re telling me you’re a top tier medic, Hokage’s apprentice, an active juonin—who has to deal with Sasuke’s mood swings nonetheless—and part of the tactics squad?”

“Yup,” she responded, popping the ‘p.’ “But I don’t go on every single Team 7 mission anymore. Not that I don’t love them, but rasengan-ing and chidori-ing your way through battle plans gets a little tedious and a gal needs variety,” she joked, waving her hand towards the back of the room where Sasuke and Naruto were apparently haggling over the worth of the destroyed table with the owner of the bar. “Also, I’m not formally in tactics. Shikaku-san’s been my informal strategy mentor for a few years.” She shrugged and tossed her long hair over her shoulder.

“I mean you spend so much time in the office, Shikaku’s basically like your work husband, ne?” Genma smirked into his drink, “Or is it little Shikaku junior who taught you the ropes?”

Shisui ignored Sakura’s withering stare. “Godaime’s apprentice, Hatake’s student, Shikaku’s…mentee.” He let out a low whistle, “Looks like you basically meet all the requirements to be future Hokage.”

“Too bad Sakura-chan has a temper just like Tsunade-sama’s; the council members would gouge their hearts out,” Genma chuckled. 

“Maybe you should spend more time in the field instead of on Hokage guard rotations, then you wouldn’t be talking so much shit.” Sakura’s lip curled into a small smile, despite her outward annoyance.

“Ooh don’t forget Ibiki, he and Sakura are like two peas in a pod. It’s horrible.”

“Wait, so how do you know this idiot?” Shisui interrupted, gesturing at Genma. 

“Well,” Genma started, while motioning to the bartender for another drink, “It all started in the coat closet of Hokage tower, some filing boxes, and a leather—”

“Shut _up_ Genma,” Sakura slapped the back of his head. “I was spending a lot of time at the tower, studying, doing paperwork, running errands, that Genma and I just started chatting. Then I was placed on some missions with him and that’s basically it.” Sakura shrugged and reached over to steal Genma’s new drink from him.

“Plus,” Genma added, pouting and making grabby motions at his stolen beverage, “Tag-team bullying Kakashi with her is a whole new level of fun.” 

Sakura giggled and Shisui drowned in it. 

.

Although wildly busy with ANBU missions, clan meetings, and his gradual transition to commander of the Police Force, he had decided then to make an active effort to drop in Sakura’s life from time to time. Afterall, he didn’t realize Konoha still churning out little prodigies since well, Itachi. 

Several weeks later, he found himself wandering the streets of the village after a mission. A straightforward solo assassination. He was in and out with no trace. Although the post-mission physical evaluation was only semi-mandatory for shinobi that Tsunade trusted to seek care, he figured he could pop in to see if Sakura was busy.

He went into her office through the window and saw her at her desk. She was leaning back in her chair, exhaustion radiating off her as she greedily sucked at a pouch, fisting the small bag to get every drop.

“Ohoho is Haruno-sensei drinking on the job? Guess you really are a mini Tsunade, but isn’t it a bit early to turn to alcohol so young?” He teased, although he walked towards her with worry clear on his face, though she couldn’t see with her eyes closed in weariness. 

“It’s applesauce, idiot.”

“Huh?”

“It’s applesauce. In a squeezy pouch.” She cracked an eye open, “Did you want one?”

“You seem hungry.” He eyed the four empty pouches on her desk. “Why not eat at the cafeteria?” He ran his hand through his curls, assessing her slight under eye circles and raw hands.

“You know what they say about hospital food,” she said dryly.

He looked at her blankly.

“God you need to stay local for longer periods of time.” She sighed.

“Would you like it if I did?”

“Well apparently someone needs to civilize you.”

Shisui couldn’t help the heat that crept up his neck at her answer and he looked at her in uncharacteristic silence.

Taking a deep breath and releasing, Sakura hunched over her desk, bracing her chin under her interlocked fingers. “Barging into someone’s private office through the window is a bit rude, don’t you think, Shisui-san?” She quirked an eyebrow at him and he internally stammered. She looked at him as if he were a lab specimen, and he swore he felt like he was in an interrogation cell. “Now I know Sasuke has the social capabilities of a rock,” Sakura continued, “But Itachi and Mikoto-san are _very_ polite so you must have been taught manners at some point.”

“I didn’t realize you were so close to the Uchihas, Sakura-sensei,” he said lightly. He wracked through his brain to think of any instances of pink hair in the Uchiha district, but he was hardly ever home. His time in Konoha was largely spent working at the Police Force or with Itachi and _Itachi_ never mentioned Sakura becoming such a familiar fixture in his life that she referred to him without an honorific. 

Sakura rolled her eyes and produced another pouch. “I’ve known Sasuke for over a decade—and have the privilege of being one of his only two friends.” She shook her head fondly. “Also as one of the head medics, an active jounin, and administrative queen,” she said sarcastically, “Don’t you think,” she paused as she uncapped her snack. “That I would get to know a _few_ Uchihas?”

Although Shisui was the one standing, he felt as though she were peering down at him, flicking him around in a mental boxing ring and he was losing. Badly.

“Ah, sorry Sakura-sensei,” he said laughing, rubbing the back of his neck, looking at the sentimental keepsakes at the top of her desk. “Maybe I was hoping that me and Sasuke would be the only Uchiha in your life.” He gave her a crooked grin and was met with a deadpan stare. Shifting on his feet he heaved a weak chuckle. “Maybe I got hit in the head a little too hard on this last mission, I can go, I’m sure you’re very,” he gestured at the small mountain of pouch corpses on her desk, “Busy.”

He made the hand sign to shunshin into a dark corner where he could bang his head against a wall in embarrassment and shame when she suddenly appeared in front of him. _Her_ speed taking _him_ by surprise.  
“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?” She gently grasped his shoulder to make him crouch down to her height and raised a glowing green palm to his head. “That should have been the first thing you led with.” He felt the cool rush of her chakra at the base of his head which did little to quell the heat rising to his cheeks. “Also, the protocol is for injured ANBU to check in from the _side annex_ ,” Sakura continued angrily. 

He took in her furrowed brows and the way her deep green eyes narrowed in concentration. Her soft apricot skin he noted, had a dusting of freckles across her delicate nose bridge, and he caught a sliver of pink as she wet her lips. His mind began to work overtime as he realized she would find out he had no injuries. 

“You’ve sustained absolutely no damage. Guess this is another thing you and Sasuke actually have in common,” she mentioned wryly.

He looked at her questioningly, still bent down towards her, wondering if he’d be able to smell her shampoo this close.

“Incredibly thick skulls,” she waved her hands absentmindedly. 

Shisui stifled an indignant choke, as she continued while walking back to her desk. “So, why did you happen to randomly come through my window?” she said, as she settled back into the leather armchair. “I’m on the fifth floor and there’s no balcony. Surely you didn’t just…find yourself here.” 

“No you’re right,” Shisui said, hands fiddling with a knickknack at the front of her desk, “I wanted to know if you,” he paused as she stared at his hands. _Ah,_ he thought. _Another social faux paus._ “Wanted to…” he trailed off a little unsure and stared at her desk then at her Byakugo seal. “Get food?” He mentally slapped himself.

Sakura snorted. Shisui was beginning to hate being on the receiving end of her snorts.

“Nice save. I guess sustaining myself on applesauce probably isn’t the best way to go about life, huh?” She gathered her stash and dumped it into the wastebasket at the side of her desk and began to tidy the mountains of paperwork and files. “Sorry, but I have a surgery in twenty minutes I need to prep for, maybe another time Shisui-san. Unless you want to state your original purpose I’m afraid you’ll have to get out before you watch me go through a sixth pouch,” she said cheekily.

“Would you want to spar sometime,” Shisui blurted out. 

“Ah, another Uchiha to beat up,” she smiled wickedly. “Are you sure though? Just ask your cousin, I beat the shit out of him every other week.”

“Sasu-chan’s strong, but he’s still learning,” he smirked. “I’m sure you’ll find me significantly more interesting.” He said confidently. _Finally_ he thought. Easing his posture and leisurely putting his hands in his pockets while staring down at her. _One_ topic of conversation where he wasn’t constantly putting his foot in his mouth. 

“No,” she said slowly. “I mean your _other_ cousin, Itachi. I beat the shit out of Sasuke like every _day_ at training,” she scoffed. “His brother on the other hand is a little more… interesting.”

Shisui gaped. He hadn’t realized that Itachi had regular spars with anyone besides him and whatever team Itachi was assigned to. Shisui narrowed his eyes at the double life his cousin has been seemingly keeping secret.

Ripping him from his thoughts, Sakura got up and shuffled a few files underneath her arm. “I’ve got to go to the OR,” she explained. “That stands for operating room, since apparently you spend so little time in hospitals,” she said as she walked past him.

He sniffed at that. 

“But if you’re available, we can spar this Sunday afternoon—I prefer the Uchiha training ground a kilometer away from the abandoned storehouse, but let me know what works for you,” Sakura said as she left Shisui standing in the middle of her office with a wave.

Once the door clicked shut he stared at the empty space at her desk. He barked out a disbelieving laugh and wrung his hands through his hair and paced in circles. He glanced around her office, noting the touches of personality between massive tomes of medical textbooks and scrolls. 

A recent picture of team 7 on her desk, an orange throw blanket folded neatly at the end of the little gray couch tucked into the corner of the room. Little wooden figurines sat on her bookshelf, scrolls of traditional black ink art on her walls, a—was that a ceremonial _Uchiha_ fan? 

It was only their second meeting and she managed to knock him off balance once again. 

.

She couldn’t make their Sunday spar, Sasuke relayed to Shisui, when his older cousin was prowling around his home looking for Itachi. She’d been sent on a diplomatic mission to Suna and it would take two weeks, Sasuke explained. After his curt explanation, Sasuke assessed Shisui and after a beat, narrowed his eyes at him.

Amused, Shisui poked at Sasuke’s cheek earning him a glare.

“What’s wrong Sasu- _chan,_ jealous your teammate’s bored of you and wants to spar with _stronger,_ more _handsome_ Uchiha?” Shisui taunted. 

At the insinuation that he was weak, and the unmentioned fact that Shisui was comparing Sasuke to Itachi, Sasuke bristled. 

“Tch, it’s your broken bones, Shisui.”

“Who breaks bones during a _spar?_ ”

“Annoying medics.” Sasuke responded with an eyeroll. 

“Hm,” Shisui hummed and tipped his head back towards the sun. The pleasant warmth made him sigh and he closed his eyes to the sounds of tinkling windchimes and distant children laughing. The back porch of the head family’s home opened into a serene garden. A sprawling tree that Itachi and Shisui used sit under while drinking tea sat next to a small koi pond where Sasuke would amuse himself by poking at the fish when he was younger. 

He looked to the slightly open screen doors of the back porch and remembered why he came.

“Where’s Itachi, what’s he up to—do you know?”

“Making food with Kaa-san.” 

“Ever the conversationalist, Sasuke. Did ‘Tachi and Mikoto Oba-san banish you to the back because you’re going through a hormonal spike?”

Sasuke gestured at the broom in his hand in obvious explanation. “Tch. I think they’re talking about their hair.”

Shisui laughed and Sasuke quirked his lip. 

.

Sasuke and Shisui headed inside and heard the scrape of metal spoons against bowls and light music in the background. 

“Coconut oil really increased the thickness of my hair and was an effective detangler. It’s unfortunate it’s only readily available in Suna. The import taxes make it overly expensive here.”

Mikoto hummed. “Well if it’s that effective I don’t mind trying it out, did you try the avocado mask I put in your bathroom?”

Shisui and Sasuke failed to cover up their snickers and were met with a menacing, spoon-wielding Mikoto. 

“Now, I don’t want to hear anything from two _boys_ who won’t put on sunscreen unless I tell them to. Sasuke,” Mikoto clucked, “Do you even exfoliate when I remind you to?”

Itachi laughed into his tea as Sasuke turned pink at his mother’s admonishing. 

Wiping his hands on his apron, which Shisui amusedly noted was a pastel yellow with white trimming, Itachi turned back to scoop meat lightly in the middle of the circular dumpling wrapper. 

“I asked Sakura to bring back coconut oil when she returns from her diplomatic meeting.”

“Nii-san you need to stop requesting random things from her, she’s not you courier,” Sasuke countered, taking a seat across the table where his brother and mother were working. 

“She’s actually the one who offered and the one who first told me about coconut oil. Apparently,” Itachi picked at imaginary lint on his sleeve, “Hyuuga Neji-san gave her some…unsolicited advice,” he finished wryly.

Mikoto chuckled when Sasuke glared at the dumplings Mikoto was delicately pinching at the mention of Neji. 

“What’s wrong, Sasu-chan,” Shisui sing-songed, throwing his arm across an indignant Sasuke, “Jealous of Neji-san? He _does_ have pretty hair. By the way,” he said, watching Itachi’s hands, “Since when have you and Sakura-san been so close?”

Sasuke shoved Shisui off of him and scoffed. “That pompous stick up his a—sorry Kaa-san—was a dick—ah, sorry—to Sakura. And he’s not even that good looking.” Sasuke finished with a sniff and an apologetic smile towards his mother. 

“And when did you and Sakura- _san_ become friends?” Shisui repeated himself to Itachi, not missing the way his Aunt and Sasuke glanced at each other. 

“She’s Sasuke and Kakashi’s teammate,” Itachi responded slowly. “Plus, she accompanies me to the sweet shops and bakeries _you_ and _Sasuke_ refuse to try,” he added with a slight pout which Mikoto frowned at and Sasuke looked up exasperatedly. 

Shisui chuckled at his cousin’s sweet tooth. “So, how did you become friends?” He tried again.

Sasuke looked at Shisui disgusted. “She’s _my_ teammate,” he hissed.

Shisui ignored him and looked innocently at Itachi, exaggeratedly batting his eyelashes. Mikoto giggled at their antics.

“Shisui, are you interested in Sakura-chan?” she questioned eagerly.

“Obaa-san, I saw her _throw_ a man into a table a few weeks ago,” he recalled excitedly, leaning in towards the table. “And then she told me she beats the shit—ah whoops, sorry—out of Sasuke and Itachi on the regular, how could I _not_ be interested?” 

Mikoto, Itachi, and Sasuke simultaneously raised an eyebrow at him and cocked their heads to the side. _Creepy_ , Shisui internally shivered. 

“Hn.”

“Are you…jealous, ‘Tachi?” Shisui asked incredulously.

“Tch,” Sasuke responded.

“God, I give up,” Shisui wailed to the bemusement of his family members and reached over to help Mikoto with the dumplings only to have Sasuke slap his hand away.

“Get away from those, you fold the _ugliest_ dumplings.” Shisui gaped at his younger cousin in disbelief. “We’re freezing these for Sakura when she comes back—idiot never has real food in her fridge— _don’t_ touch them,” Sasuke finished with a warning as Itachi nodded along with his brother.

Chuckling, Mikoto continued to expertly pinch the edges of the dumplings and absentmindedly hummed to herself. She drew up a mental Punnett square and slightly frowned at the low odds of having a pink-haired Uchiha baby.


	2. Chapter 2

Getting Sakura’s attention had been…difficult at best. Trying to work around his erratic schedule was near impossible given Sakura’s equally hectic schedule and Shisui wasn’t sure how to approach the Hokage and demand that she rearrange his missions to better accommodate his dating schemes.

But, he had never met anyone more alluring—the sway of Sakura’s hips, the creaminess of her skin, the way her eyes lit up when he brought little trinkets he acquired from far away missions. She makes the blood rush to his cheeks when she makes fun of him and he had never known that getting his bones crushed would make him feel like he was the luckiest man on Earth.

She was the sun—bringing him light and warmth like he had never before experienced, and he was the moon orbiting around her. He needed to be closer; he wanted to be _consumed_ by her. She could crack his chest open in two and carve her name in the ribs protecting his heart and it still wouldn’t be close enough.

He just didn’t know how to tell her.

.

Shisui had been idly sharpening kunai at his dining room table waiting for his bread to proof, when he received a summons. Tapping at the balcony door, a small crow was impatiently waiting for Shisui to retrieve the message tied at its foot. Wondering why Itachi sent a crow instead of making the short trip to his apartment, Shisui set his weapon down and ambled towards the sliding glass door, making sure to grab seeds for the summons.

Letting out a squawk, the crow started pecking at his door faster. Alarmed that Itachi was possibly in danger, Shisui shunshined to the balcony and grabbed the crow to get to the message. Puffing its feathers and pecking at Shisui’s hands, the summons squawked indignantly and Shisui offhandedly wondered when Itachi had kept such poorly behaved crows.

Gently releasing it into the air and unfurling the message, Shisui read:

_Came back from the mission a few days ago. At training ground 7 if you’d like to join._

_-S. Haruno_

His heart pounded. Sakura was back in the village and she contacted _him_ promptly afterwards to ask to spar? Dough be damned he was _sprinting_ to training ground 7, he thought giddily. He looked down at himself—green fuzzy socks, loose gray sweats, and an old t-shirt—he _had_ to get ready! His cheeks warmed. _Wait_ , he mentally stammered. How did she know where he lived? How did she know where to send the summons to? Did she snoop around his medical files to find his address because for _some_ reason, that made his throat dry.

Running to his bedroom while haphazardly throwing his clothes off, he suddenly stilled again. She had sent him a _crow?_ She had a _crow_ summons? There were a few crow summoners in the village, Shisui reasoned. She could have gotten a contract from Aoba or someone else. But, the thought of _Itachi_ presenting the summoning contract that _he_ had bestowed as a sign of trust and friendship made Shisui frown. As the elder, and the first contract holder, _he_ should have been the one to give her the contract to sign. _Or,_ Itachi should have gone to him and inform Shisui of his intentions.

Nodding to himself, Shisui made a note to stop by Itachi’s house later and question him.

.

Arriving at the edge of training ground 7 in record time, Shisui paused as he saw Sakura and Itachi in their uniforms warming up together. Sakura was in standard uniform sans the flak jacket and Itachi was in his ANBU uniform as always. Shisui fidgeted uncomfortably. He had worn what Itachi rudely called “the douchebag” shirt—a loose black sleeveless top where the arm holes were cut down to the bottom of his ribs. The tank top, Itachi always lectured, could hardly be defined as a shirt since it was so open. Itachi had questioned the practicality of a training top that would leave one so vulnerable to weapons and Shisui at the time, had retorted that he would understand when he was older.

Beginning to wonder if he should discreetly go back home to change, Sakura and Itachi called Shisui over.

“Oh, you came!” Sakura shouted excitedly as she beckoned him towards the middle of the training field.

As he walked slowly towards the pair, Itachi assessed Shisui.

“I see you got my summons,” he said, raising his eyebrow when he took in Shisui’s clothes. “Nice pants.”

Shisui flushed. He had chosen his _tightest_ black training pants. Pants that he _knew_ made his ass look good, thank you very much, but at the moment he was wondering if Sakura would think he was trying too hard. Or worse, he mentally shuddered, a _douchebag._

“I was excited when Itachi told me you were in the village. I wanted to work on my response times with you,” Sakura started, interrupting Shisui’s mental torture. His heart fluttered at the thought of her wanting to spar with him and he let out a little breath of relief realizing that the crow was indeed Itachi’s. He crossed his arms in a poor attempt to cover the long slits in his shirt.

“I can dodge pretty much anything,” Sakura continued, beginning to sway on the balls of her feet, pink pony tail swinging with the motion. “But I wanna see how I’ll do against an opponent I _can’t_ hit—or at least that’s what Itachi says,” she said, smiling at him prettily.

The early morning sun illuminated her face and made her green eyes impossibly bright. The faint ring of gold around her pupils winked at him and he swore he could feel his pulse reverberate in his _skull._ He realized she was waiting for a response. He licked his lips, mouth suddenly dry, and all he could muster out was a weak, “Sounds good.”

Sakura nodded happily and walked a few paces away from him, wringing out her arms. Suddenly pulling out kunai from her holster and twirling them around her forefingers, she faced him.

“Taijutsu only. Ready whenever you are, Shisui-san.”

.

She was fast, Shisui noted. He had expected as much given the way she took him by surprise in her office, cutting his shunshin off. He also factored in the fact that she regularly trained with Itachi, Sasuke, and Kakashi who were notoriously quick on their feet. But, not as fast as him.

Flickering in and out of her reach, he studied her movements with his sharingan. He knew that Itachi was on the sidelines, similarly monitoring her, but Shisui wanted to brand the image of her looking at him like he was prey for the rest of his life. Sakura was an incredibly flexible fighter, he noted. Depending on the type of attack, weapon, and opening he left, she would quickly and seamlessly recalibrate.

There were times her movements reflected Tsunade-sama’s—sharp and fast and meant to obliterate. Other times, Shisui realized, she would adopt Might Guy’s Strong Fist technique, Asuma’s melee style, or most surprisingly, the graceful but precise movements of the Gentle Fist technique.

Bracing a chakra enforced forearm against a kick to his head he asked, “Who taught you the Gentle Fist?”

Grunting and trying to strike his open stomach she responded, “My graduating class has two Hyuugas.” He side stepped away from her punch and flickered behind her. Ducking when she swung a kunai to his head and dodging the knee about to pummel his face, he shunshined a little farther away.

“Hyuuga don’t hide their techniques because no one can use it without the Byakugan, but someone would have had to teach you those movements,” he said breathing heavily.

“Kakashi copies them to piss people off and I was—am close to them,” Sakura said catching her breath. He watched as she pressed the back of her hand to her sweaty forehead and picked the hem of her shirt up to wipe at the rest of her face. Her toned stomach glistened with sweat. Little rivulets of perspiration rolled down her abs and Shisui cursed, _damn._

“Was it the little Hyuuga genius? Neji-kun?” Shisui asked, remembering Sasuke’s clear distaste for the boy.

Itachi chose then to materialize in Shisui’s line of vision, cutting his view of Sakura. Pouting, Shisui flash stepped in front of Sakura, startling her while Itachi began his commentary on what and how Sakura could improve as well as ideas for them to try out.

The rest of their morning session consisted of Itachi valiantly trying to train while Shisui cast low level genjutsus of himself telling Itachi to leave. Itachi dispelled the genjutsus, but Shisui relentlessly recast them, sometimes conjuring up little dancing animals or mini Sasukes berating him to leave. Tiring of Shisui’s antics, Itachi dejectedly sat on the ground and began his stretches, saying that they should call it a day.

“Are you alright? You seemed distracted today—I definitely hit you more than usual,” Sakura said kneeling in front of him, raising a glowing green hand to his chest.

“Thank you—I’m fine,” Itachi responded tiredly. “It’s just that _Shisui,”_ he said harshly, glaring at him over Sakura’s shoulder, kept telling me to _leave.”_

Alarm bells started ringing in Shisui’s head and he looked incredulously at his cousin. His cousin who sold him out. His decidedly, _least_ favorite cousin. He glared back at Itachi. Shisui flashed his dimples which made Itachi narrow his eyes further.

“Sorry, cousin,” Shisui started. “I’m just absolutely _starving_ and wanted to eat—you know how I am when I want something,” he said, throwing his arms behind his head and wiggling his eyebrows at his cousin.

“Annoying? Irritating? Childish?” Itachi grumbled, causing Sakura to giggle. “Sakura,” Itachi started. “Would you want to go to that new bakery in the North District? I’ve only heard incredible things about their rhubarb ice cream,” Itachi said excitedly, ignoring the way Shisui was pouting and lightly kicking at the ground.

Sakura finished healing Itachi and slowly rose, dusting the dirt from her knees and wiping her hands against her thighs. “Ooh, that sounds _really_ nice, but I should probably get real food before I start on desserts,” Sakura laughed.

Not to be outdone, Shisui stepped beside Sakura. “I agree, let’s get lunch Sakura-sensei,” he chirped while resting his hand against Itachi’s head, who was still sitting down. Scowling, Itachi yanked on Shisui’s arm, making his older cousin stumble, and jabbed the back of his knee. Pleased that Shisui was now sprawled in the dirt, Itachi rose and said, “Well, I’m _also_ going to get sesame cookies,” he sniffed. “Good luck with this,” Itachi said to Sakura, poking an incensed Shisui with his sandal. “And thank you for the coconut oil.”

With that, Itachi gracefully straightened himself out and walked towards the edge of the clearing, waving back at Sakura.

.

Shisui and Sakura made their way towards the main hub of Konoha. Excited to be alone with her, Shisui asked her questions about her last mission and her work at the hospital. He listened intently as she recalled the mission details, chuckling when she complained about the humidity in Waterfall, telling her he completely understood while pointing to his curly hair. She talked animatedly about her research project at the hospital. Although he didn’t understand about seventy five percent of what she was explaining, he nodded dutifully, lips quirking as he watched her excited hand movements as she discussed…molecular interventions through pathogenic mechanisms of neurocristopathies—he thinks.

Humming at the right times and throwing in a “oh, really—what does that mean?” every so often, he basked in her voice. Her voice, Shisui decided, was his favorite sound in the entire universe. Wanting to sit down together, he interrupted her briefly to point at the first restaurant he saw.

“How’s ramen sound, Sakura-sensei?” he asked.

“And that’s why normal and pathological neural crest cells—” Sakura, paused. “Oh, Ichiraku’s is fine. Did you know this is Team 7’s spot?” she asked, heading towards the shop. “We used to eat at Ichiraku’s a few times a week,” she scrunched her nose in distaste, “when we were genin,” she finished.

“Itachi says Sasu-chan always complains about Naruto-kun’s ramen eating habits but I didn’t realize this was your guys’ place of choice,” Shisui chuckled. “Does he know that the stand two streets over also does a killer ramen? A gal needs variety if I recall correctly,” he threw in cheekily. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he continued. “There’s also this other place that has great ambience and incredible food—you should come some time?” he voice rising in speed and pitch at the end of the sentence.

Her step faltering, Sakura looked up at Shisui. “Huh?” she questioned at his word choice, “What is it?”

“My place,” he responded quickly, smiling sunnily at her and ignoring the rush of blood to his face.

Shisui’s heart thundered at the way her mouth opened in surprise and he felt his bones reverberate when the tips of her ears turned pink. While she scrunched her nose at the cheesy line, she couldn’t help the way her lips quirked up.

“Well—”

“SAKURA-CHAN!” Naruto screamed, running towards her from down the street, waving both hands excitedly. Behind Naruto, walking at a leisurely pace, was Itachi and Sasuke. Sending Shisui an apologetic smile, Sakura faced Naruto as he spun her around in a hug.

Exasperated, Shisui watched Itachi amble towards him and sent him a mental middle finger. Looking pleased with himself, Itachi didn’t even try to hide his smirk behind his massive ice cream cone.

“Me and teme ran into Itachi-nii and he said you and Shisui-nii were around here somewhere,” Naruto exclaimed. Turning to acknowledge Shisui he said, “Oh, dude nice pants, your ass looks great in them—let’s all get Ichiraku!” he shouted, grabbing Sakura’s wrist and running towards a waving Teuchi.

Shisui stood alone in the middle of the street with his mouth slightly open. Itachi joined his side while Sasuke trailed after his two teammates, not before assessing Shisui’s shirt and pants and throwing him a grimace.

“Tch,” Sasuke said dismissively.

“You love this don’t you, Itachi.”

“Ah,” he responded. Itachi angled his ice cream towards Shisui and raised a brow.

“No.”

Itachi pouted.

.

Bounding ahead to Ichiraku’s, Naruto pulled the chair against the wall with a flourish, exaggerating a bow and extending his hand towards Sakura. Easily following the mimicry of their genin days, she giggled and pretended to ignore him. Sakura took the seat at the middle of the bar which Sasuke quietly pulled out for her.

Pouting, Naruto complained, “Aw, c’mon Sakura-chan, you don’t actually want to sit next to _teme_ , do you? He asked, easing in the seat to her left.

“It’s so she can mediate when you eventually say something stupid to piss me off,” Sasuke said, distributing the menus.

Sakura punched him in the arm in response and turned to chat about the menu with Naruto. When Shisui and Itachi settled into the wooden seats next to Sasuke, Sakura asked,

“How long are you two in the village for?” leaning towards Shisui and Itachi.

“We’ll both be local for about a week.” Itachi offered, now nibbling delicately at his cone.

“They’ve both been easing back on their ANBU duties and are doing more stuff for the clan,” Sasuke supplied, absentmindedly picking at a paint chip on the counter.

Whooping in response Naruto added, “Hell, yeah!” he threw a fist into the air. “Now you guys can train with us more! And Itachi-nii,” he started, leaning back in his chair to look at Itachi, “if you could bring more of those rice balls you made last time, they were incredible, dattebayo!”

Smiling, Itachi leaned back to discuss snacks with Naruto.

“And what about _you_ , Sakura-sensei,” Shisui asked, completely pushing Sasuke out of the way.

Grumbling, Sasuke pushed back at Shisui, which the elder responded by trapping a hissing Sasuke in a headlock.

Rubbing Sasuke’s head placatingly, Sakura said, “I should be staying in the village for the next week too—there’s a lot of hospital stuff I’ve got to do.” Nodding to Teuchi as he placed her order in front of her, she added, “I’m glad you’ll be in the village this week, we should train together again—if you want,” she fiddled with her wooden chopsticks. “It was great to spar with you and watch you, I learned a lot.”

Jealous that he wasn’t invited to the spar, Sasuke wrenched himself from Shisui’s grasp and aggressively ripped his chopsticks apart. Noting his little brother’s behavior, Itachi chuckled and said, “I just told Naruto I’d stop by your training this week, otouto.”

“Tch,” Sasuke responded. But, the way his shoulders relaxed and he smiled gently into his bowl made it clear he was pleased.

“Sakura-chan,” Naruto started. “I feel like I never see you anymore!” he said between bites of ramen. “Let’s do a Team 7 get together—you, me, teme, Kaka-sensei, Yamato Taichou, and Sai too!” he slurped noisily.

“Yeah you’re right,” Sakura sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “With all my projects, the hospital, and,” she waved her hands distractedly, “we haven’t hung out in a while.” Frowning lightly she said, “We could do it at my place, but I don’t know if I could fit everyone…” she trailed off.

Sensing the opportunity, Shisui swooped in. “You should invite your friends over, Sasu-chan,” he mockingly admonished.

Ignoring Shisui’s baiting and staring down at his bowl, Sasuke grumbled.

“Absolutely no-“

“Your friends are coming over?” Itachi asked excitedly.

“No-“

“Yes!” chorused Naruto, Sakura, and Shisui.

“They’re,” Sasuke started, pointing his chopsticks at Naruto, “going to make a mess.”

Ignoring Sasuke’s continued rumblings, Itachi started to list off different food and dessert ideas to Naruto who grew more and more excited by his suggestions if his hand waving was anything to go by. Glancing sharply to his right at an extremely pleased Shisui, Sasuke scowled.

“I know you just took advantage of nii-san’s househusband fantasies,” Sasuke whispered sharply. In the background, Itachi was dreamily listing the various courses he thought would best suit Team 7’s tastes while Naruto and Sakura egged him on with ideas of their own.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” Shisui responded smugly, leisurely slurping his noodles.

Irritated, Sasuke leaned across Shisui to talk some sense into his brother, but Itachi was staring serenely into space, using his full genius brain to plan out dinner. Huffing, Sasuke hunched in his seat and poked dejectedly at his noodles, missing the way Sakura peered past him.

.

Dinner at the Uchiha household was scheduled that Friday—a few days after lunch at Ichiraku’s. Shisui, conscious to not make another questionable fashion choice, opted for black training pants and a traditional Uchiha top—short sleeved and high collared with the Uchiha fan embroidered on the back.

Arriving at the head family’s home, he was greeted by a tired looking Fugaku who wearily told Shisui that everyone was in the kitchen. Laughing to himself, Shisui figured that Itachi and Mikoto had ran Fugaku to the ground with dinner preparations. Trailing after his uncle towards the kitchen, he saw Sasuke tending to a flower bouquet.

“Why are _you_ here?” Sasuke asked, incensed.

He ignored the venom in his younger cousin’s eyes since he didn’t look very intimidating with carnations in hand. Shisui presented a tin-foil covered pan.

“He made shokupan,” Itachi said breezily.

“They should be here any minute! Sasuke, Fugaku, go set the table and get the plum wine out of the fridge,” Mikoto ordered, putting last minute touches on the pastries she and Itachi were decorating.

In a few minutes, there was knocking at the front door and Itachi went out to greet Sakura and Naruto.

“Come on in,” Itachi said happily. Leading them inside he said, “I ran to the store earlier today and got everyone slippers,” pointing to the neat row along the wall.

“Wow, Itachi-nii. You really got this mom thing down,” Naruto noted, nodding to himself.

“You think?” Itachi smiled serenely and Sakura giggled at his pastel yellow apron with white trimming.

“No one else could make it today,” Sakura said frowning. Handing a wrapped plant to Itachi she said, “Yamato Taichou and Sai are out on a mission, Kakashi said he was…busy…” she trailed off.

Humming to himself while inspecting the healthy green leaves of the plant and the tasteful wrapping, Itachi said, “Sakura, you really didn’t have to.” But the pleased look on his face said otherwise.

“Hey! I helped too!” Naruto interrupted loudly.

.

Settling himself at the low dining room table, Fugaku sat at the head of the table. To his right was Sakura, Naruto, and Sasuke. To his left sat Mikoto, Itachi, and Shisui.

“Wow, everything looks incredible,” Sakura gushed at the spread.

Naruto nodded enthusiastically, eyes gleaming. “Mikoto oba-chan, Itachi-nii, you guys really out did yourselves!”

“I helped too, dobe,” Sasuke grumbled.

“I made the shokupan!” Shisui chirruped.

It was a little too much food for the seven of them, Shisui noted. He looked down to the heaping bowl of white rice in front of him with a hearty serving of stew to its right—steam still emanating from both. Each person also had an individual portion of teriyaki salmon, its sweet glaze reflecting the dining room light above them. Sat on the middle of the traditional table, Itachi and Mikoto also prepared stir fried vegetables, soba salad, fried tonkatsu, mapo tofu, and tempura on large serving plates. The dishes took every space of the dining room table, some of it teetering dangerously close to an edge—the table overflowed with intermingling spices and glistening sauces.

Shisui blanched knowing that dessert was bound to be a similarly overwhelming experience.

Saying a brief thanks to his guests, Fugaku uttered a brief, “Itadakimasu,” and began eating.

.

Between the passing of dishes, clinking of chopsticks, and hums of pleasure, easy chatter filled the room.

“Thank you for the coconut oil dear, it works so well,” Mikoto smiled at Sakura over her glass of wine.

Dabbing her lips delicately after devouring several slices of tofu, Sakura shook her head.

“It was no problem—thank _you_ ,” she said, looking at Mikoto and Itachi, “for the dumplings. I ate them all in one sitting they were incredible,” she gushed.

Sasuke grumbled beside her, saying he had helped too and that it shouldn’t be physically _possible_ to consume that many dumplings at once, but his mother cut him off.

“I heard we have Hyuuga Neji-kun to thank for the hair tips?” Mikoto teased.

At the mention of Neji, Shisui slowed his chewing and conceded defeat to Naruto, who was not-so-subtly trying to eat all of the tempura as quickly as possible. Shisui looked discreetly at Sakura to see how she would respond.

Sakura was caught by surprise at the comment and her spoon hovered in midair for a millisecond. Processing the joke, her shoulders shook lightly as she giggled and playfully rolled her eyes.

Naruto, with a mouthful of food said, “Neji _does_ have nice hair, ‘ttebayo.”

Choking a little when Sasuke elbowed him in the stomach he stuttered, “A-ah, not as nice as yours, Sakura-chan!” The table laughed at the duo in response.

“Itachi-nii, you should quit ANBU and become a cook, this is the best food I’ve had in _forever_ ,” Naruto said dreamily.

Fugaku frowned deeply into his wine. “Yes, Itachi, when _will_ you quit ANBU and fully take on your duties as clan head?”

Fugaku’s shoulder length brown hair had streaks of gray in it, which Mikoto lovingly said made him look _refined_ although she had hardly aged in the past five years. His face showed years of exhaustion and responsibilities with his heavy brow and fine lines at the side of his mouth. His hands were still rough and battle worn despite it being years since his active duty days. Despite it all, his eyes were still keen, sharp as flint, and just as dark.

The rest of the table stilled with Fugaku’s displeasure—the Uchihas either frowning at Fugaku or throwing Itachi an apologetic glance. Sakura and Naruto ate impossibly quicker.

“Well Father,” Itachi started breezily, taking a languid sip of his glass. “You still have life in you yet.”

Preparing for an even more disgruntled Fugaku, Naruto and Sakura nervously chattered about the incredible food, piling each other’s plates even higher, and Shisui off handedly wondered if Sasuke had ever mentioned that Sakura’s appetite matched Naruto’s.

Surprising his guests, Fugaku wearily sighed into his rice bowl. “Son, _please_ put me out of my misery so I can spend time with my wife.”

Over Mikoto’s pleased giggles and Sasuke’s embarrassed choke, Sakura and Naruto stopped their babbling to stare openly at Fugaku. Realizing that their surprise was obvious, they busied themselves again with food, ignoring Sasuke’s second-hand disgust.

“And Shisui,” Fugaku said sharply, cutting off whatever sly retort he had prepared on the tip of his tongue, “when will _you_ fully accept the mantle as the police force commander?” he questioned.

Ignoring Shisui’s attempt at a response, Fugaku braced his hands on the floor behind his back and looked up at the ceiling. “Why Itachi and Sasuke don’t want to take over the police force is beyond me,” he muttered to himself as Mikoto gently consoled him.

Laughing at his uncle’s tiredness Shisui joked, “Well oji-san, given that Itachi’s biggest dream is being a full-time househusband—” Naruto looked incredibly interested at this prospect. “—and mine is living on oba-san’s food for the rest of my life,” Sasuke rolled his eyes at this. “Maybe we’ll make you suffer a little longer.”

Shisui raised his glass to Itachi, who clinked his glass in return, happily sipping the plum wine at the expense of an entirely spent Fugaku who mumbled to himself about shattered retirement dreams.

.

After dinner, Naruto and Sakura helped clear out the dishes despite Mikoto and Itachi’s protests. While Sasuke and Fugaku were relegated to cleaning the dishes, Shisui prepared the tea while Mikoto and Itachi set the table with dessert.

Surprisingly, dessert wasn’t as overwhelming as Shisui thought it would be. There was sakuramochi at the center of the table, elegantly plated in a neat line on a porcelain plate, the pickled blossom leaf folded meticulously over each cake. Itachi’s eyes crinkled towards Sakura while setting it down. Mikoto placed the higashi towards the end of the table, near Sasuke’s seat. The biscuit-like sweet, Shisui noticed amusedly, had uzumaki swirls pressed onto each biscuit. Shisui’s shokupan was also set down alongside a small pot of honey and jam. The last dessert was Fugaku’s favorite: butter cookies. Each cookie was a perfect circle and slightly browned at the edges. But to Shisui’s increased amusement, a black, three-tomoe sharingan was stenciled in icing on each cookie.

Settling back at the table, Sasuke looked at each dessert in growing exasperation before taking in the sharingan butter cookies. He glanced at Itachi in thinly veiled disbelief, but Itachi was intently staring at his guests’ reactions.

Sakura and Naruto had expressions of awe on their face. Naruto, with one hand on his protruding stomach looked a little nauseous when he said, “Wow…you really went all out on this team dinner…it looks so good dattebayo,” he finished weakly.

Sakura, trying to make up for her teammate’s lack of gusto quickly chirped, “I’m SO impressed with your icing skills,” she gushed, “I tried once and it was a complete failure,” she pouted, running a hand through her ponytail. “I’m so full from that incredible dinner but _we’ll_ ,” she quickly darted her eyes to Naruto, “make sure and try _everything_ ,” she finished, silencing Naruto’s protests.

As Itachi went prattled on the fine details of _piping,_ not _icing,_ because they’re _obviously_ very different, Shisui idly wondered if Sasuke never hosted team dinners because of Itachi.

.

As everyone forced themselves to eat as much dessert as possible for Itachi’s sake, at the head of the table, Mikoto was cajoling her husband in hushed tones and nudging him with her shoulder.

“Sakura dear,” Mikoto started, which silenced the rest of the table. Mikoto turned her head to her husband. He responded by straightening his back and clearing his throat a few times.

“Sakura,” he started stiffly, not quite looking her in the eye. “Thank you,” Fugaku said, “for your work with the clan medics.

Shisui looked at his uncle, then Sakura in surprise—he hadn’t known just _how_ close she was to the Uchiha clan. Looking around the table, no one else seemed to be surprised with her work, more so surprised at Fugaku’s thanks.

Sakura smiled kindly at Fugaku and Mikoto. “You’re welcome, the sharingans a tricky kekkai genkai and the blockages in the delicate blood vessels are definitely hard to work with, but working with Sasuke and Kakashi gave me a leg up. I’m just happy you allowed me to treat your clan members and train your clan medics.”

“With your instruction, Sakura-chan,” Mikoto began, “nearly every clan member has noted a mental and physical improvement. The Uchiha owe you a life debt.” Fugaku, Itachi, and Sasuke nodded in agreement.

Blushing at the compliment, Sakura shook her head. “Thank you, but you all don’t owe me anything. The payment, as agreed, was fully enough.”

Shisui paused. He hadn’t realized that Sakura had found a way to ease the pain the sharingan brought. Having awoken his mangekyo at an extremely young age, he was used to the near perpetual eyestrain and frequent migraines that came with overuse. He had given up on his clan medics’ treatment for his eyes since they’d been ineffective over the years. Incredibly interested at the prospect of relieving his pain he quickly turned to Sakura.

She was still talking to Fugaku and Mikoto, trying to convince them that they didn’t have to commit to any favors for her, and all of his thoughts stilled. She was talking with her hands, trying to explain that she was just glad to be of service to her teammate’s family, and by extension, the village. That no one should be in chronic pain if there was anything she could do about it. Her cheeks were flushed with the wine, and he was taken by the fullness of her lips. Wet with the plum wine, they glistened in the soft overhead light. Every so often, he could see a glint of her pink tongue as she laughed, or caught the corner of her lip.

Noticing that Itachi was staring at him with amusement, Shisui mentally shook himself out of his stupor.

“Ne, Sakura-sensei, I hadn’t realized you figured out the sharingan. Any chance I could schedule a doctor’s appointment with you?” He smiled cheekily at her, ignoring the way Sasuke and Naruto threw daggers at him.

“See, Sakura-chan,” Mikoto said, “you take such good care of our boys—no matter what you say, we’ll always be in you debt.”

“Mikoto-san—” Sakura looked down at her shirt—a standard issue jounin top—which now had a dark wine stain blooming at her stomach.

Naruto looked sheepishly at her, grabbing his napkin. “Sorry…at least it wasn’t your kimono this time?” Naruto said as he dabbed.

“Aw man,” Sakura complained, “this is one of my last good ones too.” While it was customary for shinobi to keep one or two sets of pristine uniforms for show—if they were on guard duty for a prestigious client, or to maintain appearances for foreign dignitaries—the reality was that most shinobi were running around in repeatedly stained, slightly tattered, hole riddled uniforms until they were unwearable.

Getting up to rinse her shirt in the sink, Mikoto stopped her. “Let me get you something to change into,” she said, rising from her seat. At the same time, Sasuke stood up, saying he’d get something of his, and missed the way Shisui had grabbed the back of his own shirt collar and started to undress. Itachi yanked the hem of Shisui’s shirt down and Fugaku stared at Shisui like he was stupid.

“No, no, sit back down Sasuke,” Mikoto said quickly, “look how pretty Sakura’s hair is today,” gesturing at her pink locks, “I’ll have to get her something of mine.” Mikoto placed a hand at Sakura’s upper back and ushered her along.

Sitting back down, Sasuke stared after his mom and teammate in silent confusion over the correlation of Sakura’s everyday pony tail and clothes.

After a few minutes, Mikoto and Sakura shuffled back into the main dining area. Mikoto walked slightly behind Sakura, staring intently at her sons’ and nephew’s faces. Catching the glint in her eye, Fugaku sighed.

Sakura changed into a loose black sweater with an Uchiha fan stitched on the breast. The sweater itself had a similar cut to the jounin top, and was slightly loose on Sakura’s frame. Seeing his teammate, Sasuke furrowed his brow. He had several shirts exactly like that. Sakura also probably had several shirts like that—it wasn’t particularly nice even—why did it have to be his mother’s, he wondered. What does it have to do with her hair—did ponytails have some significance he hadn’t known about? Deep in thought, he continued to scrutinize while Itachi happily munched on butter cookies. Glancing nonchalantly at Sakura he offered a “Hm,” and went back to cajoling Naruto into eating more. 

Shisui was gone. The thought of Sakura wearing his clothes with the Uchiha fan would be forever branded in memory. He imagined quiet mornings with her as he made her coffee as she got ready in the mornings. He imagined how she’d look wearing one of his t-shirts—the oversized fit exposing the cream of her shoulder and him kissing the open space.

He watched her as she spoke. The slender curve of her neck, the peach fuzz on her cheeks, and the irresistible plumpness of her lips mesmerized him. Shisui felt the rush of chakra to his eyes, activating his sharingan, and quickly turned his head.

“Thank you for the meal,” Sakura said, rising from her seat, bowing to Mikoto and Itachi.

“Yeah, dinner was great thank you so much!” Naruto chimed in. “Ne, ne, Sakura-chan,” leaning towards her with a glint in his eyes, “why don’t you stay and sleepover! It’ll be like our genin days!” Naruto cheered.

Lightly grimacing, Sakura responded, “I have a shift at the hospital at six in the morning—maybe next time,” she apologized, although she didn’t look sorry at all.

“It must be exhausting having multiple full time jobs,” Itachi said sagely, still munching on butter cookies.

“Yes.” Fugaku deadpanned. “I wonder.”

Completely ignoring his father, Sasuke got up and heaved Naruto with him as well. Nodding to his mother, he jutted his chin to Sakura then jerked his head at the door.

“God, teme—use your words!” Naruto yelled, swatting the back of Sasuke’s head. Ducking before Naruto could hit him, Sasuke jabbed the side of Naruto’s stomach, grinning when he doubled over and wheezed. “W-we’re gonna walk S-Sakura-chan home,” he managed to get out, glaring at Sasuke from his hunched over position.

Seeing his chance, Shisui shot up from his seat and clapped a heavy hand onto Naruto’s back, forcing the blonde to stay hunched over. Cheerfully he said, “I’ll do it! My apartment’s on the way anyways and you’re staying here!” Squeezing Sasuke’s shoulder forcefully, Shisui grinned at his younger cousin trying not to flinch in his vice grip.

Raising a brow, Sakura looked at Shisui unimpressed, although the corner of her lip was curling. Itachi mirrored Sakura, except he was actually unimpressed. Fugaku massaged his nose bridge and his wife hid her smile behind her hand.

“Sasuke, Naruto, come help with the dishes,” Mikoto said.

Sakura gave once last bow to Sasuke’s parents and waved at her friends before heading out.

.

Sakura’s apartment was not on the way to Shisui’s. In fact, it was on the opposite side of the village.

But, there was no way he’d miss the opportunity to talk to her one-on-one without the intrusion of pesky teammates or baby cousins. They walked leisurely side by side, shoulders occasionally bumping, as he basked in her undivided attention. The walk to her apartment was made in quiet tones, careful not to break the stillness that surrounded them.

Crickets chirping in the background and the moon softly illuminating their way, Shisui, for the first time with Sakura, felt at ease. He wondered if maybe they were meant for this—quiet conversations under the moonlight, with her wearing the Uchiha crest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, Im in the social sciences/humanities so if Sakura’s medical babble is wack…I tried my best. That being said… big credit to Nicolas Pilon doing cool research on treatment options for whatever neurocristopathies are lmao. https://www.cell.com/trends/molecular-medicine/fulltext/S1471-4914(21)00041-1
> 
> What was your favorite part? Mine’s def Itachi pouting that no one would get sweets with him or when Shisui rejected his ice cream. Also when we get maxxed out house hubby Itachi. Let him bake :l


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